Voice Of Death
by Whoaa Kayy
Summary: He doesn't remember Mike's voice being this obnoxious. Is it always that incessant? All high and whiny like.


**A/N:** Why do I always fall for the emotionally damaged ones? I mean, first it's a blind guy and now it's this badass, know-it-all, stone cold bastard. But not really.

I loveeee Harvey. Love 'im to all those itty bitty pieces that I gush about so much.

And by gush, I mean mention they exist. :D

So, first Suits one-shot. Finished it before an archive (or board, as I call it) was created. Expect heeps more, as it's become my new crack until Sherlock and Doctor Who come back and **(UNPOPULAR OPINION!)** the Covert Affairs storylines start to pick back up. Snooze fest 3,000, aside from Auggie's episode.

Yes, I'm heartless. No, I don't care.

If any of you are reading this but have yet to watch Suits—**LE GASP!** You need to watch it right now! Go ahead, obtain it by illegal means. I will resolutely shield my eyes.

Kidding, I'm the biggest pirate you'll ever meet. I can find anything. :D

Alrighty then, my lovelies, thank you for reading! Enjoy!

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><p>Hurts.<p>

Hurts, hurts, hurts.

Why the hell does it goddamn hurt?

"Hey, you know those briefs you had me look at—"

He doesn't remember Mike's voice being this obnoxious. Is it always that incessant? All high and whiny like.

Mike gives him a strange look before slamming the thick file down in front of him, and he unconsciously flinches. The strange look intensifies.

"—most of it before Louis could get a good look, but he's not happy." Mike collapses in the chair and lets out a sigh that closely resembles a bomb explosion. "He's trying to tell Jessica you stole another client."

When Harvey doesn't comment Mike continues to talk. He wishes he'd stop though, the kid's voice is starting sound like the high frequency pitch that only dogs can hear, or at least what he imagines it'd sound like.

"Oh God, here he comes." Mike says, immediately sitting up straighter. "How does an oversized rat move that fast, anyway? Or look that happy? Is it even possible for a rodent to smile?"

Harvey wants to tell him to go find a book and figure it out, but the words won't form on his lips. In fact, they won't even prepare themselves in his mouth. His tongue is too thick with pain to move.

Lovely.

Louis walks in and glances at Harvey—out of respect, of course. It wouldn't do address a rookie before acknowledging a partner—and opens his mouth to say something cutting that only Louis could use for a greeting. He pauses though, mid breath, and turns to take a closer look at him.

For a split second, sympathy touches the corners of the man's eyes and the constant-purse of his lips relaxes. It's gone so suddenly Harvey has to blink through his pain-induced haze to try and confirm it was actually there, but Louis is already sniping at Mike like Harvey's not even in the room.

Mike doesn't notice the subdued tone Louis's voice has suddenly taken on. Harvey wouldn't notice it either if his brain wasn't singing praises to it, what with the pure venom Louis can spit with a few carefully selected words. The man's a walking antagonist.

Mike's voice is rising with his barely-contained anger, and Harvey absently notes that he's trying to defend Harvey, but he honestly doesn't give a damn right now. The only thing he could even think about giving a damn over is firing Mike for his ridiculous voice and kicking Louis's ass as far away from his office as humanly possible.

He could also give a damn about couple Excedrin, but that would be too much to hope for.

When Louis walks away, Harvey almost thanks him for it. He watches the man lean over Donna's cubicle to murmur something to her, and she worriedly glances over in his direction. Louis follows her gaze and nods respectfully before strutting off to his office.

Donna's got the phone glued to her hand and the nauseated expression she wears when she's trying to be pleasant to ignorant people, and he just knows she's rescheduling the rest of today's meetings.

If he ever considered monogamy, he wonders if she'd really marry him.

"What'd he tell you?" Mike suddenly yells out his door. Donna jumps and glares at him, Harvey briefly considers throwing him through the window. "That Harvey should watch where he steps, that he's going to crash and burn because of his incompetent associate?" Mike's pacing in front of him as he says this, and each angry footfall jars him like an earthquake. "That you should get out while you can?"

Donna stomps her way into his office—as much as a woman in four inch Stiletto's can stomp, anyway—and glares at him murderously. Harvey would be very afraid, if only he knew Donna wouldn't dare look at him that way. Mike stumbles at the sight.

"He _told_ me that Harvey owes him a bottle, and that I should clear his schedule, and maybe get you a book on how to read people before you kill your boss."

She stomps some more, pushing Mike out of her way defiantly before resting the small plastic bottle very, very carefully against his glass desk. Surprisingly, the pills inside don't make a sound, and Harvey lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He doesn't particularly like to say thank you if he can help it, and Donna knows that, so she just smiles softly and whispers she'll be right outside, just like always, if he should need anything. He doesn't nod—he doesn't think he can—so she does it for him, throws one last disgusted look in Mike's direction, and goes back to her desk.

Mike follows her, dazed, with his eyes. He's confused, Harvey can hear the gears inside the kid's head as he tries to understand what just happened, and Harvey wants to groan at the sound.

"Stop," he tells him with as much authority as he can manage. Mike jumps and whirls around, almost as if noticing him, sitting there and trying desperately not to clutch at his head, for the first time since he walked in the office. Something tells Harvey that the notion isn't completely absurd.

"...What?" He breathes, looking between him and Donna, so thoroughly past confused it could be comical. He's sure if he didn't feel like someone already shot him in the head he'd laugh at Mike before doing it himself.

He dry-swallows two pills, because he's Harvey Specter and he'll be damned if he even considers moving for something as trivial as a swig of water, and sighs, resting his head against the back of his chair. Twenty minutes, half an hour—tops—and he'll stop imagining all the brutally violent ways he can murder Mike and his insipid voice. Half an hour, and he'll be back to normal.

"Oh!" Mike exclaims, and he refuses to admit he forgot about the kid being in the room. "Oh, _oh_! Oh my God!" He drops into a whisper, and Harvey can't help thinking it's more annoying than his regular voice. "Harvey, I'm so sorry, I had no idea—"

"I know." Harvey deadpans, "now shut up."

* * *

><p>He doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until he opens his eyes and finds his neck screaming at him. It helps that it's dusk out.<p>

Donna's still at her desk, typing away and resolutely not glancing at him continuously to make sure he's alright. He'll give her a bonus, or take her out to dinner or something. Women like stuff like that.

Mike's gone—he can't stop the minute relief that wells up inside him, though he quickly squashes it after the fact—but the file he unceremoniously threw on his desk earlier is still there, though now with a blue sticky-note and a large prescription bottle he's never seen before sitting on top.

_I bought Louis the bottle you owe him,_ the note reads in Mike's callous chicken-scratch, _along with two extras—just so he can't say I never bought him anything. I used to get migraines last year, and these would stop them in their tracks. They don't expire for another year and a half, so enjoy. - Mike_

Harvey's about to say something to himself about how illegal it is to share prescription drugs, but then he sees the post-script.

_They're like super-Excedrin, so just imagine them in a pair of tights and forget the legalities. If you get them as often as I did, you're going to need them._

Harvey doesn't laugh, but he chances a look at Donna before allowing himself to chuckle inwardly, just in case it shows on his face or something. She's none the wiser, so he quickly drops the pills in his briefcase.

"Any plans for tonight?" He asks as he stops in front of her cubicle. She glances at him incredulously. "I'm in the mood for Italian, what do you say?"

She wrinkles her nose but continues to fiddle with her computer; going through the movements of shutting it down before looking back up at him. "I wanted Mexican, myself. Something spicy."

"Sounds great," he says, smiling like it was his idea all along. "My treat."

She rolls her eyes but nods, returning his smile all the same. One last quick note scrawled and attached to her monitor and she grabs her purse, looping her arm through his as he leads the way to the elevator.

"I'm glad you're better," she says quietly as the door dings on their floor. He smiles and steps inside.

"Me too, or we'd be holding interviews again, and I know how you hate that."

Donna tries not to look at him, but he catches the automatic way her head turns and how her brow furrows slightly. He laughs a little.

Mike's a very lucky man, even if he is cursed with that stupid voice.

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><p><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I own nothing, and I will not voice my opinion of that matter.

**A/N:** Wrote this on my iTouch, by the way, so if there are any mistakes please let me know asap. :D


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